


fly me to the moon

by vounoura



Series: knife wife and staff loser [11]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Romance, this is literally just wish-fufillment fluff lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 21:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17711684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vounoura/pseuds/vounoura
Summary: "Hey, Naryu," Nirasa says one early afternoon, all grins and teeth and impish looks thrown over a shoulder. She steps out into the rain like it isn't even there, taking her hand in hers, warm and delicate and calloused, lacing the fingers together lightly. "Come dance with me."





	fly me to the moon

**Author's Note:**

> wow it's my first non-pining fic GHJFSBGJFS

"Hey, Naryu," Nirasa says one early afternoon, all grins and teeth and impish looks thrown over a shoulder. She steps out into the rain like it isn't even there, taking her hand in hers, warm and delicate and calloused, lacing the fingers together lightly. "Come dance with me."

Naryu scoffs, but the insult of the gesture is lessened by the smile that threatens to bloom at the corner of her lip. "Are you joking?" She asks, half-incredulous - the rain pours in fat drops against the plaster of a canton, splitting apart on contact against the wall.

"It's just water," Nirasa replies, grinning wider now. She's soaked to the bone. "What, scared you'll die?"

Naryu feels her eyes roll, but lets herself be pulled out from the relative safety of an overhanging rooftop despite herself - swaying lightly with Nirasa’s movements all the while - until she feels the rain rolling in icy rivers against her cheek.

(Nirasa's always had a way of making Naryu follow her whims, and once upon a time Naryu had considered this dangerous.

But she’s since come to find that it’s probably her favourite trait of hers.)

“Do you even know how to dance?” Naryu asks, though she thinks she already knows the answer. The smile finally blooms unbidden, unhindered from the corner of her mouth, larger when Nirasa throws her head back (carefree, the same way she does everything else in her life) with a cackle and a “Not a bit!”

And it's obvious from the first moment onward that Nirasa has never danced a proper step in her life - neither has Naryu, not really, but what Nirasa lacks in skill and talent she makes up for in enthusiasm. Instead, she improvises, goes along with the moment in a carefree way that only Nirasa Sethan truly can - stepping on toes by accident, missing steps, twirling freely in tight circles and ambitious dips that nearly send them both toppling to the ground.

Objectively, it's dreadfully unpleasant - she's soaked to the bone in near-skintight leathers, water catching in her eyelashes, her hair sticking unceasingly to her face, pressed uncomfortably against a body still clad in travel leathers. Her fingertips have gone numb by now and she can feel water between her toes on every step, but -

But she can't remember the last time she's seen Nirasa this _alive_ , or felt this content _herself_ , for that matter. The skin pressed against her cheek is ice cold but the breath from the laughter against her ear is warm and safe and comforting, as if she means to say _we're here, together, and that's all that really matters_.

(The hand in hers says _don't worry about Veya, about the world_. The thumb against her wrist keeps her anchored, keeps her safe. It reminds her of easier days, earlier days as a young child where her only worry was getting into bed on time.

Their day-to-day-lives can wait - the stresses of staying alive, of keeping a world from falling apart at the seams.)

And it feels like _home_ , as abstract and stupidly poetic as it sounds - despite everything, Nirasa still smells of smoke and leather and strangely herbal soap (like the hackle-lo still stuck in her teeth) when Naryu buries her face in her neck, laughing and smiling all the while. How Nirasa manages to stay so _familiar_ despite everything - despite every new scar, every new nightmare - sometimes feels like the only constant in her life.

(And that’s just it, isn’t it? She’d said it back in that Daedric ruin, back in Kvatch and maybe even as far back as Fort Amol - knowingly or not, they’d followed each other across a continent, met a living god, saved a king, overthrown a murderer of innocent confectioneries. If that didn’t count for something, Naryu didn’t know what did.)

It’s freeing to just _love_ this woman without the baggage, without the doubts, even if only for five minutes - she’s soaked through and freezing but it still feels like that faraway fantasy of hers, with a roaring fire and half a bottle of wine. And maybe it’s the freedom that keeps her rooted here for longer than she means to, even when their movements are more swaying than actual dancing. Maybe it’s the nose buried in her hair (Nirasa is only slightly taller than her, though this doesn’t stop her from bringing it up at every possible moment), the arm wrapped around her waist or the nameless tune buzzing from Nirasa’s chest (Nirasa can’t hold a tune either, she finds) that keeps her there, implores her to lean into the touch just a little bit more than may be publicly appropriate.

(But she’s never really cared about propriety.)

And maybe this is all she needs, Naryu thinks - she’s not one for grand gestures of love (or even admitting that she has _feelings_ of any kind in the first place, for that matter) but she finds that it’s these moments that keep her going more often than not, through every irritating writ and every late-night fear of Nirasa’s name being on the next. It’s in every kiss, every stroke of fingers through her hair, every time she lightly and half-jokingly chides Nirasa for the drool stains on the pillows.

(She’s not much for love - but maybe, just this once, this is all she needs.)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Frank Sinatra song of the same name.


End file.
